


Words of Advice

by Darespireka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Advice, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Crossover, From a Defeated Dark Witch, Gen, One Shot, To an aspiring Dark Lord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26579605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darespireka/pseuds/Darespireka
Summary: Morgana reawakens in a distant future after her death at the hands of her mortal enemy. As she surveys her new circumstances with jaded eyes, she is both a little bitter and mostly resigned.When she sees a shadow of herself in an underclassman at Hogwarts, Morgana attempts to instill the lessons of her old life upon him in hopes he would do better.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Words of Advice

Morgana jerked upwards from her bed, her gasps echoing through the room.

Curse her bloody visions and her bloody memories.

Her eyes glowed gold briefly and the room stopped shuddering. Furniture ceased to creak and moan. Framed pictures laid still on the thick carpet floor, some cracked and others miraculously whole. Numerous plush toys tumbled haphazardly all over the floor. A perfectly spherical snow globe had fallen from its delicately wrought stand on her nightstand and rolled to rest against her bedroom door.

She could hear the rhythmic thuds of footsteps in the hallway. The door swung open, smashing the crystal into the wall and shattering it. A brown-haired man stood in the doorway. Uther Pendragon asked worriedly, “Was it another nightmare sweetheart?”

An eleven-year-old Morgana looked apathetically at him, “I'm fine Uther. Go back to bed.” She waved her hand and the room righted itself. Uther flinched, “You're not supposed to do that anymore. Professor Dumbledore said it could bring the Ministry around again.”

It took a minute for Morgana to understand what he was talking about. Then her lips curled into a sneer, distorting her young face. The good professor reminded the reincarnated witch entirely too much of Emrys. Both were conniving; more than willing to use their power to reinforce their own version of what was _right_ at the expense of those who thought differently. Uther, like the simpleton he had always been, had taken the man's word for gospel after he came to explain why his ward had such unexpected gifts.

Uther had no idea of her true power. Of the memories that haunted her. Dumbledore had been suspicious but she doubted even he would believe the truth.

“Good night Morgana, you have an early day tomorrow.” He hesitated before continuing, “I'm sure your father and mother would have wanted to be there with you, but...” Morgana flicked her wrist and the door shut in his face. She heard the sigh of disappointment through the wood.

“How laughable,” Morgana thought. Once again Uther thought it was better to lie to her face about her true parentage, intent on playing mere guardian. The reincarnated witch sneered.

At least she would be free from this hellhole tomorrow. Off to be with her own kind. A school for magic. It was the only thing the kept Morgana sane after her old memories returned.

She hoped Morgause and Mordred were waiting for her somewhere.

And Merlin. Morgana had plenty of bones to pick with her former murderer.

As it was, her little reincarnated family was complete. The arrogant prat that was Arthur was two doors down the hall, and it took all of her willpower not to attempt to kill him again. It was only luck that kept him from dying the first time.

When Morgana first woke to the nightmare of her past death a year ago, a ten-year-old Arthur was hovering over her bed. She blasted him away by reflex. The boy broke his spine and three ribs by smashing into the antique dresser that Uther insisted she keep because it had been her mother's. It had been one of the only things that had survived the fire. All Arthur could do was gasp and cry, begging for Morgana to get help. To get Uther. Morgana would have simply finished the job but cloaked men and women popped into her bedroom to respond to her magical outburst. They froze an unprepared Morgana, fixed up Arthur, and took away their memories. Or attempted to in Morgana's case. It was easy enough to circumvent the spell they sent her way.

That was when Morgana found out there were others like her. Magic had thrived despite the original Uther's best efforts. Morgana laughed in joy the moment she was alone.

The next day, Professor Dumbledore came to visit. Uther was told of Morgana's status as a muggle-born witch. Morgana listened in fascination when the wizened old man spoke of a whole world of magic that she would get access to once she was eleven.

Clear, blue eyes met her guarded, gray ones and Morgana knew the wizard was probing her mind. She held the man's gaze with all the arrogance of a former Queen of Camelot. She shielded her important memories and let him peruse her innocent ones. After a while, he advised her quietly that the school's admittance would be withdrawn if she proved to be a serious danger to others.

Morgana got the message loud and clear and it stayed her hand from getting rid of Arthur permanently. He wasn't worth it. The Pendragons could rot on their own.

Her last death had taught her that and more.

* * *

The magical world was everything Morgana ever wanted, and yet everything she despised.

Finally, there was a space where magic could be freely practiced and yet... it was so stifled and broken that Morgana could have screamed. These witches and wizards practiced nothing more than a bastardization of true magic. Almost unrecognizable from either the Old Religion or of the magic practiced by the druids.

Here, magic was only derived through each person's personal core and focused through paltry sticks of wood. It was obvious the days of ritualistic magic had been done away with. Instead, magic seemed to be restricted to the rigid confines of the incantations they were taught. They seemed simpler to recite at least.

The general _goodness_ that radiated from these magical beings was nauseating to behold. They were cheerful, bustling about without a care in the world.

And God help her if she heard another person use _Merlin_ as a form of awe and reverence.

It wasn't until Morgana spotted the shadows leading to Knockturn Alley that she finally saw hope in this overly perfect world. She gravitated towards it but Professor McGonagall, who had volunteered to take this years' muggle-borns into Diagon Alley, dragged her away before she could do so much as peek into the shadowed side street.

As she walked further into the alleyway, Morgana was fascinated by how openly Potions seemed to be practiced. She would blink and nearly imagine Gaius hunched over his workbench puttering away to make her tonics. Some days she really missed the doddering old physician, liar as he may have been.

When they reached the bookstore, Morgana went to town in the history and lore section. She knew Arthur's legend had permeated through even Muggle literature. Surely the Wizarding ones would be more accurate, more fair to those who had been there. She picked up three of the biggest texts she could find and the Professor merely raised an eyebrow at her selection. Morgana was glad she didn't ask any questions.

When Morgana arrived home with her school supplies and extracurricular reading in hand, her mind was elsewhere.

Her initial recoil of disgust had died when she picked up her wand for the first time. The unyielding eleven-inch yew wand carried a dragon heartstring, and it had made Morgana's magic sing in a way it hadn't ever before. Perhaps these witches and wizards were onto something with wands.

After all, for all their faults, they _thrived_. Morgana had witnessed families happily traveling in this shoddy alleyway, going about their business freely. The magical community seemed like a relic in time, content to just be as they were. It reminded Morgana little of Camelot—of those days when she stole into the market just to be among the people with Gwen at her side.

Her heart hurt thinking about it. Morgana hated how her new life seemed to have sparked emotion again into the once black, shriveled organ. She had always felt too strongly. It was the greatest curse of all.

* * *

When Morgana finished devouring the history of Merlin, Arthur, and her past self, her hate started to blaze back to life again.

Her struggles against Merlin and Arthur had become nothing more than a footnote in history. Her magic was labeled dark simply because she had opposed their great and powerful _Merlin_. There was no mention of the Old Religion. Of Uther's persecution of magic that started it all. Instead, Morgana was hailed for things she had never done and for powers she did not hold. If anything they had mixed Morgana up with Gaius.

Though, she _was_ rather intrigued by the idea of animal transfiguration. It would be the first new ability she intended to master.

History had focused only on the bumbling idiot that had once been Arthur's manservant and hailed him as the greatest sorcerer of all time.

The timing of it all also confused her. How was it that Merlin attended Hogwarts when all of magic had been marginalized for decades under Uther's rule? Did it mean there had been magical enclaves during the Age of Camelot and they had simply left those outside of it to burn and die?

Seeing Emrys' happy smile in the moving cover, as if mocking her struggles, made Morgana's eyes glow and the book burnt to a crisp in her hands.

Morgana hoped Merlin was still alive somewhere. Unlike these failed replicas, he and she had been born immortal, only capable of death through a blade forged in a dragon's breath.

Her eyes continued to glow an ominous gold in the darkness of her room.

* * *

Morgana wasn't surprised when she was sorted into Slytherin, but Uther and her professors were dismayed. She was the first muggle-born to be sorted into the house in decades.

The Potions professor, a man who reminded Morgana of Gaius, took her aside and advised her to keep her blood status a secret. “If you need to, point them in my direction. I'm sure I can scrounge up a relative or two for your cover.” Morgana thanked him politely and agreed. Her classmates would only know of her as a half-blood distantly related to Prof. Slughorn. Her regal bearing and magical prowess allowed her to blend in seamlessly without anyone the wiser.

She took to learning magic like fish to water. To others, she just seemed like an exceptionally bright witch—thankfully whenever she practiced spellwork with her wand, her eyes did not glow gold. And so she was able to keep her secret close to her chest by avoiding wandless magic.

* * *

By the time Morgana reached her Seventh Year, she had become thoroughly jaded with this new Wizarding world. They were just as lazy and entitled as Arthur used to be. The shadows and cracks of their society became all too obvious under Morgana's discerning eyes.

Prejudice seeped from every corner. Against muddled blood. Against magical creatures. Against Muggles. Against magic different from what they considered acceptable. In some ways it was satisfying. To know that Merlin's dreams had not, in fact, manifested some magical utopia.

And it _was_ Merlin's world. This was what magic became when he had stopped her from freeing them all from the confines of Arthur's legend. From Uther's shadow.

She could see how it inhibited those specifically within her House. It was a little ironic considering it claimed so many of the heirs who would have been Arthur's cohorts. No matter what the Gryffindors thought—knights had always been of noble blood. The exceptions were not the rule.

Though even Morgana would admit she could see Arthur breaking tradition more than once to recruit from the braver lot of children. He did it blatantly enough in the end with his ridiculous Round Table nonsense.

A quick glance towards her right had Morgana frowning. The little boys' club headed by a manipulative Sixth Year named Tom Riddle reminded her of darker times. All of them were scions of their Houses except for Riddle who somehow drew them all in with honeyed words and a mutilated soul. The boy reminded her of herself in some ways, but his sycophants reminded her entirely of Agravaine. She doubted Riddle would have a happy ending until he rid himself of them.

Morgana sighed as she turned back to the front of the Great Hall. The last of the First Years had gotten sorted. Oh, how she had hoped to finally glimpse old faces. Year after year, she held hope she would find either Morgaruse or Mordred within the small gaggle of children, and year after year she was disappointed.

Perhaps this was to be her punishment. To live alone even in her next life, separated from those she actually cared for.

* * *

Morgana would have kept her nose out of Tom Riddle's business if he hadn't poked his into hers first. Somehow there was a rumor of her blood status going around Slytherin and Morgana knew from reading Slughorn's mind that it was Tom's doing. The Potions Professor had let her secret slip during one of his conversations with a probing Tom.

The new hostility didn't phase the dark witch of course. She was Morgan le Fay, High Priestess of the Old Religion, once and rightful Queen of Camelot. These puny schoolchildren could do nothing to her.

When she found herself surrounded by the so-called Knights of Walprugis in a deserted hallway, Morgana smiled. She would enjoy putting them in their place.

A quick _Protego Maxima_ caught the barrage of offensive spells they predictably threw at her and her answering _Expulso_ threw the lot into the walls. Most lost hold of their wands on impact. All but one of the boys remained slumped on the ground and Morgana was disappointed. Only one—a boy with dark hair—managed to clamor to his feet gripping his wand. A quick nonverbal stunner took care of him easily enough.

Morgana flicked her wand to follow up with a silent _Expelliarmus_ and the lot of thin wood came sailing towards her relaxed form. She didn't bother to pick them up and let them clatter onto the floor in distaste.

She was just about to teach them a lesson they'd remember when Morgana's wand flew from her grasp. Tom Riddle had finally deigned to arrive.

“Miss Pendragon,” he greeted smoothly. “I pray you weren't intending to harm your own classmates? I'd hate to take points from my own house.”

Morgana's head tilted, “Are you seriously going to play the Prefect, Riddle? We both know why you're really here.”

Tom Riddle toyed with her wand, lithe fingers caressing what did not belong to him. Morgana promised he would pay for it. Tom continued to play dumb, “I have no id—“

“ _Geblinna_ _n néadhæs mec,_ ” rolled off Morgana's tongue. Tom shut up and went unnaturally still.

Morgana crooked her finger and Tom stiffly made his way to her. “Get on your knees and properly return my wand,” she taunted. Tom did as he was told, sinking to his knees on the cold, unforgiving floor with her wand offered on the open palms of his hands.

She picked it up and wiped it on the back of Tom's robes. She turned back to her original victims and got back to chanting her curses. Her lips curled back when she got to Bellatrix's form. Such potential wasted on obsession.

Cuts appeared all over their forms, each trickling slow and thin rivulets of blood to paint a gory picture upon their forms. The life-giving substance also leaked from their ears and shuttered eyes. They would have a grand time trapped in their nightmares while their precious “pure” blood slowly seeped from their arrogant forms. A slow, painful death just as she liked it.

The blood slowly pooled beneath their forms, the dark red calling to Morgana. Begging to be used. But Morgana knew that would be a step too far though and refrained. She didn't need or want that kind of attention.

Only then did she finally turn back to her awaiting thrall.

“Shall I tell you why you are here _Tom_? Shall I tell you how I know it was you that put a target on my back? Jealous were you? That _I_ was worthy of Slughorn's protection while you were forced to flounder your way through Slytherin?”

The hate in Riddle's eyes was all too familiar. Morgana continued callously, “You were right to be jealous. You're _not_ worth it. Not when you insist on trying to be something you're not.”

Tom fought her magic impressively, his face managing to twist into a fanatic snarl. Morgana simply hit him with an _Imperio._ He stopped twitching and his face smoothed back to its initial blankness.

“Let me give you some advice. Take this... incident to rid yourself of your useless minions. _Fix your soul_. It will only spell your end when destiny intervenes to restore balance. And leave me alone Tom Riddle or I will show this school who you really are. Show them the pet snake you keep and that precious diary of yours. And that ring—though it is such a curious thing. More than what you think it is for sure. Either way, one word from me and you'll be back in that orphanage of yours with your wand snapped before you can blink.” Morgana gave him a cold smile full of promise.

“Now be a good boy and clean this mess up. I better not hear from you or your goons again,” Morgana tutted. Tom got robotically onto his hands and started to wipe the blood away with his robes.

Morgana swept off into the darkness.

Moments later, Tom roared soundlessly in his fury, his magic lashing out and throwing his hapless followers into further injury.

* * *

Morgana was disappointed to wake up knowing the whole crew would make a full recovery. She sighed. At least the rumors would die down.

She was doubly disappointed when she found Tom Riddle in her face again a few days later. At least he was alone this time.

“I see you're rather hard of hearing Riddle.”

Tom didn't bother mincing words and attempted to disarm her. Morgana was ready for him this time and flicked the spell away before throwing an _Impulso_ followed by a _Fumos Duo_. Tom dodged the first but was trapped in the second. The hallway filled with dense white fog. Morgana's low laughter echoed in the hall as she disappeared from view.

Tom attempted a _Ventus_ to clear the hallway, but it would only pierce so far and the smoke keep flowing back in a matter of moments. Funneling it also didn't work. He snarled and spun the wind spell to create a constant whirlwind centered around him. He panted as he kept it going and lengthened the radius until a small section of the hallway remained clear. In the meantime, he threw spells towards any sound of Morgana's movements.

“Please. I thought you were supposed to be powerful. Brightest wizard of your age according to Slughorn. Surely you can do better than that?”

“ _Shut up! Show yourself you bitch!”_

Morgana tsk-ed. “Your ill-breeding is showing Riddle. And that split soul of yours. I told you it'd do you no good. Immortality is nothing more than a fool's errand. Take it from someone who knows.”

“What could you possibly know of immortality you _mudblood_? What, do you think you're really descended from the legendary Morgan le Fay?” Tom spat scornfully.

“And what if I am? Besides, why do you use mudblood like it's supposed to hurt? I could say the same to you _half-blood_. Penniless orphan. Worthless charlatan. Magical abomination. Do try to be a little original won't you?”

Tom's face twisted with malice, “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” The infamous green spell smashed into the stone wall.

“You'd think a school would better monitor the use of these so-called Unforgivables. You're lucky I led us to such a secluded area of the castle. Not even the Professors come down here. Though, I suppose that was my doing as well.”

Tom stalked down the hallway, intent on changing their location to somewhere better suited for dissipating the fog.

Morgana smirked, “Leaving so soon?” She appeared behind him and Riddle whirled around only quick enough for his eyes to widen as he was caught in a nonverbal _Incarcerous_. She flicked her wand and Tom's wand came sailing into her other hand.

“Once again, you underestimated me. Are you really expecting to get far in life with this kind of shortsightedness?”

Tom slumped sullenly at his place on the ground, “How do you know all of this? Who are you?! How can a mudblood be so strong?”

“Your little obsession with blood and lineage is misplaced. Yes, some men are born to greatness. But others are forged. Magic does not adhere to bigotry. It answers to those willing to do what is necessary to call upon her. Just like your little Horcrux ritual.”

“By your words, you should understand why I did it then. Why the distaste?”

“Because it's unnatural. You, Riddle, are an aberration. If I were still... If it were another time and age, I would have executed you myself. You've perverted your magic. You've stunted your potential.”

“ _Lies!_ ” he spat. “I've surpassed all others by willingly broaching magicks no one else dared to touch. One day, the world will bow at my feet!”

“Like you are sprawled before mine? You're a mere boy playing with things you don't understand. Royalty is not in your blood. You don't have the temperament for it." Morgana sighed. He was as stubborn as she had been once upon a time. "I tire of this. Seek me out again, and I will not leave you with mere words and a bruised ego.”

Tom squirmed desperately as Morgana once again strove away from him.

She turned around just before she was to round the bend of the corridor, “You remind me of myself you know. I hate my father; I blame him for everything that ever went wrong with my life. Still do as a matter of fact. So it took me a very long time to realize he wasn't the only one at fault. I was too. I went too far and lost sight of what was important. I can only pray you won't do the same.” With those parting words, Morgana swept out of sight.

* * *

Tom Riddle finally learned to stay away after that. His followers knew better to even look in her direction.

Tomorrow she would be free of the castle, free from under the thumb of Dumbledore's monitoring. Perhaps she could go and curse Arthur and Uther with a misery hex. Or a quick severing charm.

Or perhaps she would try to find peace somewhere else. Far from these lands that had failed to live up to her expectations.

Here, magic was so linear and structured. While her wand allowed her to forgo the rituals needed for great feats of magic, it also made her start to lose the connection she had with the magic in the world around her. Morgana had come to both hate and love her wand equally.

Perhaps she would finally fulfill this legacy of hers. Found this so-called Avalon and take her place as Queen. Even if it was just a kingdom of one. Maybe then, one day her true family would come to seek her out and Morgana would finally find peace in this new age.

She stared out from the top of the bell tower into the distance.

Footsteps approached. Morgana turned and was greeted by a Tom Riddle who slowly placed his wand on the floor as a sign of goodwill.

“Tom Riddle. I see you've learned nothing since we've last spoken.”

“I've learned plenty, _Lady Morgana_.” The boy bowed properly and Morgana's lashes lowered to match his movement. They rose when he did.

“You have questions, I presume?”

“Yes. How... how are you still here? Are you truly immortal? Were you born this way or did you...” he trailed off.

“Your fear of death is showing young warlock. There's no true immortality. I did die at Merlin's hands. But yes, I was immune to most things that would kill a normal man or woman. There was no ritual. I was born to greatness but Merlin... Merlin was born just the same. This second chance was not something of my doing.”

Tom's brow furrowed in frustration, “Why haven't you just killed me then. If you have the means to do so.”

“Like I said. I see a shadow of myself in you. And truth is, I don't like this new magical world. It was built on the bones of my people. Merlin ensured that when he stood by Arthur's side. If you chose to muck it up for the foreseeable future, I certainly have no qualms with it.”

“Why not do it yourself. I would be your most loyal servant.” Tom offered.

Morgana scoffed, “Ambition like yours would never allow you to be a mere servant. I learned that lesson the hard way and am not keen on relearning it.” She let out a weary sigh into the night, “No, my days of conquering kingdoms are long behind me. Merlin or not.”

Tom's lips thinned in disappointment, “So you're no help at all.”

“I have tried to help Tom Riddle—you just won't listen. Get rid of your hangers-on. They'll prove to be nothing more than a liability in the end. Fix your soul. Do not under any circumstances split it further. You will be nothing more than a shadow of wasted potential, easily extinguished by the smallest of circumstances. Destiny will set you against a foe that is bound to triumph.”

Morgana paused, her eyes distant, “Horcruxes or not, trying to cheat death is truly nothing more than a child's dream. You will one day regret the cost when you fail. The veil beyond will not welcome you, and you will wallow forever as a footnote in history if not worse.”

“Your words are just as worthless now as they were before. No wonder Merlin defeated you so easily.”

Morgana's eyes glowed gold and Tom tensed, “My death was pathetic—brought about by the same hubris I see you display before me.”

Tom sneered but his eyes betrayed his wavering certainty.

“Here's some hard-learnt words of advice Tom Riddle. From one defeated witch to an aspiring warlock. Some may tell you that you have got to do what you think is right and damn the consequences. It's the beginning of every protagonist ever written is it not? Even Arthur wasn't exempt from that.” Morgan smiled bitterly before continuing, “But we both know what's _right_ will always be decided by the victors.”

Tom finally looked like he was contemplating her words. But she doubted he would come to the right conclusion. 

Morgana stepped up onto the stone edge of an open archway lining the top of the bell tower. Hearing the obsessed warlock talk was like looking at a mirror into her past. The parallel helped Morgana finally decide her next goal in life. The High Priestess was going to build this Avalon. One where the Old Religion could once again thrive and one that was far, far away from the future troubles of this wizarding world. She could tell that Tom Riddle would not be persuaded. Just as she had not been all those years ago when a young Merlin begged her to see reason.

Still, the darker part of her hoped Tom would succeed where she had not. If only to prove Merlin wrong.

Morgana turned her back to the boy but kept her head twisted to the side towards him. “...I look forward to finding out the end of your story. Will you be the hero or will you be the villain?”

Then she jumped.

Tom scrambled towards the edge, but all he could see was the shadow of a bird. He heard the caw of a raven as her final farewell.

* * *

Tom never saw Morgana again. No one else seemed to even remember she existed. Not even Dumbledore, though the old bastard furrowed his brow at the question.

He spent the first three years post-graduation searching for her as he explored the boundaries of his magical abilities. He held off on creating more Horcruxes and kept his loyal followers at a distance, choosing to travel the world in his quest for power and knowledge. In the dead of the night, he sometimes pondered on whether to attempt to rejoin his soul.

But when she was nowhere to be found, Tom ceased to put stock in her words. Perhaps it had just been a fever dream brought about by a young boy's doubts. The thought of the great Morgan le Fay actually being reincarnated as a mudblood? Impossible.

He wouldn't remember until he stood alone in the Spirit world with no path to join either the Living or the Dead.

Instead, he was forced to spend the rest of eternity in regret, struggling to avoid being devoured by the monsters who dwelled in that in-between space. Forever trying to find a way out that didn't exist.

**Author's Note:**

> ... I was going to write something to give Morgana a better ending after re-watching the earlier seasons of Merlin. But then I got bit by this what-if instead.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading ♥


End file.
